


Ninety Six Percent

by Syrum



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Good thing Bruce is tea-total, Loki had no idea he could get THAT drunk, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Steve had no idea Loki could even GET drunk, Tony is just a drunk, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yes that is a genuine brand of vodka, cockblock Thor, don't drink and drive kids, frostshield - Freeform, the best worst idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As part of Loki's rehabilitation, Tony decides he needs to find out first-hand what a Midgardian bar is like.  This might perhaps not have been one of his better ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ninety Six Percent

**Author's Note:**

> Otherwise known as; the time Steve found out about Loki's obsession with his throat.
> 
> I'm taking some liberties here, lots of assumptions and one Thor comic where Loki tries to get Thor very drunk as a point of reference XD

“I am not sure that this is one of your better ideas, Stark.” Loki glared into the pint of Midgardian beer that had been placed on the bar in front of him, a poor substitute for the Asgardian ale he was used to, and several degrees weaker. Thor seemed to enjoy it well enough, judging from the noise the energetic blonde was making while recounting some tale or other to a bored-looking woman further down the bar.

“Nonsense!” Tony clapped the taller man on the back, causing Loki to choke and switch his glare from his drink to the Avenger. “This is a great idea. Fury insisted that we try to ‘rehabilitate’ you into human society, and what better way than to get rip-roaringly drunk and make asses of ourselves.”

“I would rather have nothing to do with your ‘ass’, thank you very much.” He muttered, taking another swig of his drink and wrinkling his nose. “You are aware that, if your intention is to end the evening with me inebriated, this bilgesnipe-piss will not work, correct?”

“Was that a challenge?” Stark grinned from ear to ear, flagging down the nearest bartender. “I think that was a challenge.” Loki rolled his eyes, though could not prevent the slight twitch of amusement in his lips as the Midgardian turned to the poor man who had been beckoned over. “What’s the strongest thing you have here?” The man paused, thinking for a moment, before disappearing into the back and returning with a sizeable bottle of something crystal clear with a white label written in a language Loki was not yet familiar in. Tony whistled appreciatively, his grin growing ever wider across his face.

“If anyone asks, we don’t sell this.” The man muttered, a large, red ‘96%’ visible beneath his fingers as he removed the top from the bottle, the number meaning little to Loki but a great deal to the man sat beside him.

“Two shots of that, my good man.” The bartender seemed somewhat surprised but poured them regardless, before taking the note Stark offered in payment, returning the bottle to the back room out of sight. Turning to Loki, Tony grinned and raised his own shot glass, the second finding its way into the Asgardian’s hand.

“And that is why I love this place, filthy and full of low-life scum as it is.” Tipping his head back, the liquor was gone in less than a second, leaving Tony choking and gasping for air as the alcohol burned its way down to his stomach. “Damn, that’s good stuff.” He barely managed to gasp out, tears at the corners of his eyes and infuriating grin still in place.

“I am hoping that this is better than that poor substitute for a good drink my dear brother is indulging in.” Loki muttered, before following suit, eyes widening as the vodka slid down his throat, a pleasant sensation rising from within as it settled in his stomach. “That.” He paused for a moment, staring at the small shot glass appreciatively, clearly suffering far less than Tony had. “Was not bad at all. I approve of this drink, I should like more of it.”

“Excellent!” Clearly already part way gone, the vodka helping in no small measure, Stark flagged down the same bartender and ordered another two shots - both for Loki this time - and something decidedly weaker for himself. At Loki’s complaint that the quantity was entirely too low, he snickered and ordered a pint glass of coke to accompany the vodka, lest the god feel in the mood for a longer drink.

“Look, I- that is to say…” Five shots and two glasses of ‘double vodka and coke’ - whatever that was - in, and Loki was feeling decidedly light-headed. He just barely registered the babblings of Rogers somewhere to his left, paying them little mind until the man was, rather forcefully, rammed into his side.

“Come on, pretty thing, come and play with us.” A low, burbling laugh followed, coming from a six-foot-nothing brute with piggy eyes and a face only a mother could love. The man was well-built, near enough as wide as he was tall, though still nothing the Captain couldn’t handle were he in his right mind and not out in public with two Asgardian gods, a billionaire and a scientist with anger management issues.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.” Steve managed to right himself, muttering an apology to Loki who had lost half of his drink in the ruckus.

“You think that matters?” The man sneered, stepping entirely too close for comfort. “Come quietly and I won’t have to hurt you. Much.” He licked his lips, and Loki felt rather than saw the shudder that ran through Steve at the thought.

“You _clearly_ do not have the mental capacity to comprehend what ‘no’ means.” Irritated beyond measure, Loki pushed his way around the Captain to stand before his attacker, wobbling a little more than he would have liked as the alcohol that had settled nicely in his stomach seemed to make its way down into his legs. “Although, if you are as intelligent as you look, that is hardly a surprise you repugnant creature.”

“Well now, aren’t _you_ a mouthy little thing.” The man sneered, reaching out to grab at Loki and finding himself flying backwards with the force of Thor’s punch. Loki was somewhat disappointed; he had hoped to take the buffoon down himself, but he supposed this way he wouldn’t end up ruining the rather lovely green leather jacket he had procured for the purposes of ‘blending in’. He watched as Thor went after the man, drinks flying left and right as the Asgardian carved a path through the packed bar.

“You didn’t need to do that, you know.” There was a pleasant heat against his back and hot breath entirely too close to his ear. Loki thought to warn the Captain that it might not be such a good idea to lean on him, considering his slightly tipsy state, before realising that it was in fact he himself barely standing, the floor closer than it perhaps should have been.

“He was a…” He trailed off, staring for a moment at the arm that had tugged him back upright, preventing his inevitable descent, now wrapped firmly around his waist. “An _ass_.” The Asgardian grinned, before erupting into uncontrollable giggles. His drinks were, perhaps, stronger than he had initially thought. For Steve, this was the first sign that everything was perhaps not quite right with their former foe.

“I think it’s time to leave.” Steve was keeping one eye on the fight across the bar, not willing to step in _just_ yet to stop the brawl; he had not yet found it in himself to forgive his initial attacker for grabbing his crotch and squeezing hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. It was, he decided, one of the worst ways to pick up a date in a bar that he had ever had the misfortune to witness, and as out-dated as he might be compared to the youth of today, he could not help but hope that such actions were not typical.

“I think you might be right.” While Loki didn’t exactly jump at the new arrival, he still could not prevent the glare at the shorter man, watching as Banner reached down to tug Stark’s prone form away from the bar, where he was quietly snoring slumped against the beer-soaked wood, looping one limp arm over his shoulder and making the difficult journey from the bar to the exit while half carrying, half dragging the unconscious billionaire.

“We should probably fetch your brother.” With a sigh of resignation, and a clearly tipsy Loki pressed somewhat unnecessarily tightly to his side, Steve made his way over to the pile of battered drunks, Thor himself appearing to be entirely unscathed following the debacle. Somewhere along the way, Loki presumed he must have blacked out, a blast of cold night air to the face waking him once more though doing little to ease the wobble in his legs or the gurgle of his stomach.

“You know,” There was a definite slur to his voice, though to his credit Loki was managing to remain at least mostly upright, albeit with quite a lot of help. “S’much as the man was an ignorant cretin, he had exquisite taste.” Fingers buried in the collar of Steve’s bomber jacket, leaning in with enough force that any normal man would have been thrown off-balance, all Loki gained for his efforts was a low, embarrassed chuckle and a shake of the head.

“You’re drunk, you have no idea what you’re saying.” Steve was very much aware of Thor’s proximity, practically feeling the disapproving stare aimed at the back of his neck at Loki’s drunken admission. “We should probably get you to bed.”

“You’re taking me to _bed_ , how forward of you Captain.” Ah, there it was, the infamous Captain America blush, from ear tip to ear tip and covering every square inch of visible skin. He could not help but wonder what such a colour might taste like and so, using his additional inches to his advantage, leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses to the blonde’s beet-red throat.

“ _Loki!_ ” Steve found himself rooted to the spot, arms full of dark haired Asgardian, half torn between fleeing from the inevitable rage of the older Odinson, and wanting to remain in place to ensure the younger would not end up as a crumpled heap on the tarmac. Loki was doing wonderful things to the sensitive skin of his neck and, despite his protests, did not seem to want to stop.

“Come, brother. You know not what you are doing, let us be going.” He wasn't certain whether Thor’s timely intervention left him feeling relieved or frustrated, and settled on perhaps a little of both. Loki’s opinion on the matter was clear; slung unceremoniously over Thor’s shoulder, arms dangling uselessly, Steve was certain that he heard a muttered ‘cockblock’ from the trickster god, wondering for a moment where he might have learnt that _particular_ turn of phrase. Keeping pace with the thunder god was easy enough, though locating the car - and their designated driver - was a little trickier.

“There wasn’t too much trouble, I hope?” Steve finally slid into the car behind Bruce, Loki haphazardly shoved in beside him as Thor crushed his way in on the opposite side. He could hear Tony snoring softly from the front seat, and the faint smell of vomit quickly indicated to all concerned that Bruce’s trip back to the car had been, while less eventful, entirely more unpleasant.

“They will not bother us again should our paths cross once more, I should think.” Thor’s booming voice seemed entirely too loud in the confined space, and Loki seemed to agree, wincing and sliding closer to Steve as Bruce reversed out of the car park.

“I don’t think we should come back here any time soon.”

“Whyever not? It has been a fun evening of entertainment, has it not?” Thor asked, puzzled. Steve levelled a mildly exasperated look at the Asgardian, indicating at the now sleeping Loki, who had all but curled up in the Captain’s lap.

“I’m not sure he can handle his drink quite as well as you.”

“Nonsense.” Bruce almost swerved off the road as Thor’s laugh woke Tony, who in turn grabbed for the scientist, earning a yelp from Steve and a muttered curse from Loki. “It has been longer than I care to remember since the last time I saw him so merry, t’is a sight for sore eyes my friend.” Had they not been crushed into the entirely too small car, it was almost certain that the inevitable friendly smack on the back would have left bruises. As it was, Thor settled for a squeeze of Steve’s shoulder, limited as his movement was.

“I,” Loki finally piped up from Steve’s lap. “Am a _god_.” 

“We know you are.” The Captain sighed, running placating fingers through Loki’s hair to keep him quiet as he stared out the window, hoping the car ride back to Avengers tower would remain uneventful.

When asked later, Steve would have no idea how he had been lumbered with getting Loki safely back to his room and into bed. He could only assume that Thor truly had it in for him, and intended to watch him die from sheer mortification as Loki’s hands started to get a little too familiar.

Finally they reached their intended destination and, with Loki once more clamped to his neck and laving a wet trail across some of the more _sensitive_ spots, the pair stumbled into the Asgardian’s living quarters. The bedroom was the first room on the left, door left ajar, for which Steve was more than a little thankful. 

“You’re drunk, it’s time you went to sleep.” Putting on the most authoritative voice he could muster, he tried to maneuver the wriggling god towards the large bed in the corner. He found his efforts hampered by the taller man when the sinful mouth that had been worrying at his neck was suddenly gone, Loki slipping out of his grasp to bury long, slender fingers in his hair and tug him up into a searing, mind-numbing kiss.

It wasn’t the first time Steve had been kissed, nor even the first time he had been kissed by another man, but it was certainly the most intense kiss he could recall experiencing. Loki was seemingly as talented at kissing as he was at everything else, pressed up against the slightly shorter Avenger, lips moving so sensually against his own that Steve could not help but respond, kissing back with abandon. He was like a man starved, taking from Loki everything that the god was willing to give, his heart pounding within his chest as he gripped the taller man’s narrow hips, more to steady himself than anything else but the motion caused a delicious friction that set the dark-haired trickster moaning into his mouth, kisses swallowing up enough of the sound that they were unlikely to be heard out in the hallway, even with the door still partially open.

It was only when Loki pulled back, looking utterly debauched with his jacket part way down his arms, collar askew and lips kiss-swollen and red, that Steve was finally able to piece together the shattered remnants of his mind, knowing he had to stop this before it went any further. He had tasted the alcohol on Loki’s breath, of course, but the slightly hazy grin and dilated pupils were enough to let him know enough really was enough. “You’re drunk.” The Captain tried again, leading his charge across the bedroom, unable to contain the disappointment he felt and hating himself for it.

“I’m only.” Loki stopped to giggle for a moment, catching Steve off-balance and almost sending both of them tumbling to the bed. “I’m only _ninety six percent_ drunk.” He let the blonde strip off his green jacket and black button down shirt, leaving him only in the tight-fitting black jeans he had come to favour. Steve’s own jacket somehow joined the growing pile of clothing, despite his protests.

Without warning, Loki took hold of the Captain and, with very little effort and a touch of magic on his part, tossed him back onto the bed. Slowly, a predatory grin upon his face, the Asgardian began to crawl up the prone form of his teammate, until he was crouched on all fours over the stuttering, tongue-tied blonde. Any protests that Steve might have made died on his lips as the shirtless beauty towered over him, long black hair cascading over milky white shoulders and a grin to rival the Cheshire Cat near enough splitting his face in two.

“You are beautiful, my Captain.” It wasn’t fair that the inebriated god was still seemingly in full control of his vocal chords, the sensual purr of his voice enough to send a shiver down Steve’s spine, while the Captain in question had apparently lost the ability to speak entirely, managing to make only a strangled groan that might perhaps have been Loki’s name as the trickster leant in to graze his teeth gently over a partially exposed collar bone, a strange but not unpleasant cold sensation spreading across the exposed flesh wherever Loki’s lips touched.

It wasn’t until Steve found himself pressed flush against his very hot, very drunk charge that his voice finally made a reappearance. “Loki, _no_ , you need to stop, _please!_ ” It seemed as though his pleading got through to the taller man, as the motion of lips upon his neck stilled and the hand questing up the outside of his thigh grew limp. “Loki?” Not daring to move, Steve waited. The only response he received from the other man was a low snore.

Laying upon Loki’s bed, the trickster god sprawled across his chest and snoring softly, Steve could do little but stare up at the smooth, white ceiling, wondering whether perhaps he would be able to slip from beneath the other man and make his escape without making his presence known. Almost as if he knew what the blonde was thinking - and there was every possibility that he _did_ \- Loki tightened his hold on his captive, muttering something unintelligible. No, there would be no escape for him that night, at least for the time being.

Explaining the circumstances of their present position to a likely hungover Loki the following morning would be interesting to say the least.


End file.
